Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  “Yes.” What else could I say? It was one against four, and these guys weren’t playing by the rules. They wanted to change the rules. My best bet was to get the heck out of there and warn Demon Control about our new little problem.

  “Good.” He seemed surprised by my answer.

  So was I, to tell you the truth. But, hey, I was no hero. I was just an Angel trying to do her job and get through the day.

  They all stood and freed my wrists. I tried to get up too, but before I could rise to my knees, Blondie backhanded me, throwing me back down to the rooftop.

  “Shit,” I yelled, cringing at the sting. I wasn’t used to pain. Other than a scuffle with a demon now and then, Angels had always been above getting knocked around.

  I removed my hand from my throbbing cheek and noticed the goons were all laughing. However, Blondie looked pretty serious, like he might want to hit me again. I stayed down.

  “I warn you to take this threat seriously,” he said. “If you don’t, Angels will be punished. And the blood will be on your hands.”

  Chapter Two

  I waited until the demons were well out of sight before I slowly made my way back to the bar to get my car. I’d rescued a soft blue 1972 Volkswagen Super Beetle from the scrapyard. The interior still needed reupholstering. The seats were torn and the dashboard was cracked, but I’d get to that soon. It was my baby.

  No, not all Angels were mechanically inclined. Most didn’t know how to change a tire. I was different in that aspect, I guess. I wouldn’t say I was smarter. In fact, Angel Academy was tough for me. History was the worst. Who really cared why Eve picked the freaking apple from the tree? Maybe she was hungry. Maybe she was PMSing. You don’t put food in front of a woman and say, “don’t touch”, especially when she was craving it. That was just wrong.

  My car was still in the same spot, unharmed. I supposed the demons wanted me to have a way to spread their idiotic little message. Fools. I wasn’t totally surprised they were rebelling. It was only a matter of time. And they were programmed to do the wrong thing.

  I turned over the engine and started down the street, making sure no one followed me. I drove in the wrong direction and then came back around, going out of my way to be safe.

  Angels, Inc. Denver Demon Control was located in an old factory on Twenty-Second Street and I’d tell you but then I’d have to deport you. It had a parking lot attached that we made some money on, more so during baseball season because we were only a couple of blocks from Coors Field. And now I’ve told you too much. Boy, I have a big mouth. I’ll blame it on the excruciating pain at my side and my throbbing cheek.

  Those pricks. Who did they think they were?

  Anyway, the Demon Control garage entrance was located in the back of the building just past the lot. Only Angels and Demon Control employees, who were mostly male Ex-Angels, were allowed in the garage. I drove up to the scanner, punched in the secret code, and put my thumb to the scanning device. The computer thought about it for a moment before the metal gate rolled up in front of me, allowing me through.

  I pulled into my designated parking space and then took the secure elevator to the second floor, the hub of Demon Control.

  The first floor was used as a cover for any unsuspecting pedestrian who happened by. If they were to look through the windows, they’d see machinery. Lots of complicated boring machinery. And if that didn’t deter their curiosity, there was an Ex-Angel employed to sit at a desk by the front door to answer any questions as vaguely as possible. It helped the Ex-Angel looked like a regular Joe. Nothing special to remember or tell your friends about.

  Floors three through six were where the Angels and Ex-Angels lived. Each of those floors consisted of a dozen studio apartments. Floor seven at the very top belonged to the head honcho Angel, otherwise known as MOG or Messenger of God.

  Through MOG’s visions, she was the only one who knew precisely which demon had done what and when. I didn’t understand the whole deal. I’d heard she was given God’s power to see all but only in Northern Colorado.

  There were other MOGs and Demon Control Angels stationed in other parts of the U.S. and around the world. Of course, I’d be able to give you more info on that if I hadn’t been daydreaming in class that day. Sorry. Angel Academy was co-ed back then, and I’d sat next to a beefcake. It happens, you know.

  The elevator doors opened to a bustling office with cubicles, computers, and yawning employees. There were no windows to bring us attention from the outside. Just solid white-painted brick walls. Boring. No one ever accused Angels of being creative.

  I started down the gray-carpeted aisle to the back of the large room, but I was stopped by my friend, Judd, who was sitting at his desk with online poker up on his computer screen. Judd was an Ex-Angel and my best friend. He used to be a Law Enforcement Angel until they phased men out of the program. Judd hadn’t been happy about going from street work to desk work. He’d been good at hunting down demons. Too good, some would say, giving three strikes all at once instead of one at a time. It hadn’t made sense to him why we should keep the demons on earth. Naturally, the Powers That Be Pact explained that all, but I guess he wasn’t paying attention in class that day either.

  Maybe that was what allowed us to be such good friends. He was different from the other Angels and Ex-Angels. He didn’t try to be good to the point of insincerity. His actions and words were straight from his heart...and sometimes lower regions.

  “Hey, what happened to your face?” He dropped his huge foot in the aisle so I couldn’t get through. Male Angels were much larger than their female counterparts, and Judd was no exception. He was six and a half feet of lean muscle. Sort of attractive too. Not the same way a demon was. Not supermodel attractive. Just normal, everyday, sandy-blond hair ruffled, deep blue eyes, needed a shave, sexy attractive. Not that I was looking.

  “Fell.” I shrugged his question off. The last thing I wanted was to give him a reason to think women couldn’t handle the demons. He did enough complaining about men losing Angel status as it was.

  “That sucks. You know your face and chest get all pink when you lie, right?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “I gotta go talk to Lois.”

  “I knew it.” He let his foot fall with a thud. “I want to hear all about it later when I come over. You still have the football game recorded?”

  “Yep.”

  “Cool. I’ll bring the pizza. Eli’s bringing the beverage of choice. What do you got?”

  “Um, my television and my presence.” No way was I sharing the cheesecake.

  He gave me a crooked smile, trying to be cute. “I’ll go for that.”

  “Lovely.”

  There was a time when I would’ve blushed at Judd’s sad flirtations. When I’d first started working as an Angel over ten years ago, at the age of eighteen after graduating from Academy, I’d been incredibly naïve. I’d gone out on dates—yes, with Judd too. I’d dressed up in heels and dresses. I’d teased. I’d flirted. I’d even slept with a few after the third date, breaking a couple of Angel rules in the process, hoping I’d find a keeper. Or a way out of serving my time as an Angel.

  The rule was when an Angel married she or he’d be relieved of his or her Angel duties, allowing for a “normal” human life. The extended life was no longer an option but was replaced by the freedom to choose a career, travel the world, breed, and whatever else humans had the ability to do. And of course, breeding was how new Angels were created. Children—now only female children—who were born of us were sent to Angel Academy at the age of five. I supposed it was the equivalent of boarding school for humans.

  Anyway, all of this—marriage, babies, and the white-picket-fence human life—were what most Angels seemed to strive for.

  And when I say most, I mean not me. Not anymore.

  I knew better now. Men, no matter what species, were no good.

  I’d given up on my pitiful hopes for finding Mr. Get Me Out Of Active Duty. That phase had passed.
I didn’t mind being stuck living under Angels, Inc. quarters, under Angels, Inc. rules. And other than friendship, men were off limits. I would no longer waste time trying to get in their good graces only to be scrutinized and deemed unworthy as forever material. Square peg, round hole—not gonna happen.

  Honestly, I’d rather spend eternity chasing down demons.

  I ignored Judd’s suspicious stare and headed toward Lois’ office. Some might say Lois was special...in a psychotic, paranoid, and judgmental sort of way. The woman was mean. And she was MOG’s second-in-command. She knew how to throw a scripture from the Bible at you and make you feel like you’d die and go to Hell tomorrow if you didn’t do what she said stat.

  I thought MOG put Lois in charge of the office so she wouldn’t feel the need to go out into the human world where she’d probably be sent to the loony bin for yelling, “The apocalypse is coming!” from the street corner.

  Yeah, Lois was that scary.

  Before I could make it to her door, it swung open, and she stepped out, glaring at me through black thick-framed glasses she didn’t need—a woman who looked twenty-four and dressed sixty-five. All polyester slacks, ruffled blouse with a tweed coat.

  “What happened to you?” she asked with a disapproving look. Every Angel and Ex-Angel in the vicinity stopped what they were doing to stare at me. I hoped Judd wasn’t watching.

  “I got beat up by some demons,” I whispered.

  “Whatever did you do to deserve that? Did you fall into one of their beds again?”

  I was never going to live that down. One moment of passion with a half-demon hottie and I was labeled a slut for eternity. Did I mention I used to be naïve? “No. I need to talk to you about—”

  “Hold on.” Lois stuck her finger up for me to wait and listened into her earpiece. “Yes, MOG,” she said and turned to me. “MOG wants to see you immediately. She sounds very upset.”

  “Great. Thanks.” I turned and headed toward the elevator, stepping over Judd’s outreached foot this time. What was he? Twelve? He really needed a hobby.

  The elevator played human gospel music. I hummed an Aerosmith tune to drown it out.

  I wasn’t too concerned about MOG. I’d met her a few times before, and I was pretty sure Lois was exaggerating when she said MOG was upset. The holy Messenger of God didn’t get upset as far as I could tell.

  The doors opened to a small reception area much classier than our tiresome office a few floors down. The overhead lights were dim, casting a glint on a golden granite desk. Pauline, MOG’s receptionist, sat behind the desk with her hands clasped together in front of her. Her long blonde hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders—a common hairstyle for Angels both blonde and brunette.

  There was nothing on the desk in front of her. No computer. No papers. No writing utensils. Nothing to occupy her time. It seemed her only job was to smile. But the narrowing of her big blue eyes negated any chance that her smile was genuine. For me anyway.

  I wasn’t offended. Not many of my fellow Angels liked me much. It didn’t bother me though. I didn’t really care for them either. Most of them were too good. Too pristine. Or maybe I just had too many flaws for an Angel. Who knew? One thing was certain—I’d take down the bad guys any day of the week, but I refused to pretend I was anything other than Abby Angel. Even with all my imperfections.

  “Go ahead and go in, Abigail. MOG is waiting for you.” Pauline’s voice was angelic. Go figure.

  I nodded, not wanting to assault the small serene room with my own huskier voice and ambled through the knobless door that had swished open for me.

  The first time I met MOG I’d been surprised by her appearance. She hadn’t worn a robe or a toga with gold piping at her waist as I thought an almighty messenger of God would. There hadn’t been a visible aura around her. She hadn’t radiated holiness and perfection. Nope. MOG’s only outfit seemed to be a tie-dyed T-shirt and holey bellbottom jeans. She had long straight brown hair pulled back by a washed-out yellow bandana, and she’d been barefoot. She’d looked like a hippie straight from the 1960s which had led me to believe that was when she’d reached her prime, her twenty-four years of age that she’d never look older than.

  Today she dressed no differently as she glided gracefully across the thick shag carpet toward me. “Abigail,” she said with a calming smile. “Come in and sit with me. We must talk.”

  I smiled back, not able to help myself. My cheek stung, so I stopped and did a quick glance around the room. I’d seen the seventh floor only once before on a tour through the building right after I’d moved here from Academy. Everything seemed the same. The large windows were tinted black so we could see out but no one could see in, just like in all the Angels’ studio apartments. The walls were red brick, unpainted. There was a king-sized bed far off in the corner partially blocked off by a rainbow of lace curtains hanging from the ceiling. Oversized beanbags were scattered across the carpet in random spots. A refrigerator and a small table with one chair were in another corner, and a large mahogany desk sat along the center of the far wall covered with little glass bottles of who-knows-what. There really was nothing else to describe except for the slight smell of what could only be marijuana.

  Huh. So the clothes weren’t all that MOG kept from the sixties.

  She pulled me down on a beanbag the size of a loveseat and turned to me with intense brown eyes. “Are you okay? I saw what happened. It looked painful.”

  I shrugged but was embarrassed she’d seen me fall into that trap. I’d forgotten MOG was able to view demons when they behaved badly. It was her only purpose at Demon Control.

  “Are you sure?” She gently swept her soft hand down my cheek. “Such a beautiful face. I hate to see my Angels pained in any way.”

  Before I could respond, she jumped to her feet and floated to the desk. “I have just the thing.” She searched through the bottles finally finding one that seemed to please her. “Here it is. This will take care of that nasty bruising.”

  I tensed at the thought of putting an unknown substance on the face I’d have for the rest of my hopefully long existence. “Or we could just pray about it?” I suggested and regretted my words immediately. I hoped she wouldn’t know I hadn’t prayed since my Academy years when we were required to stop and kneel down before every class.

  She laughed. “Are you frightened of my concoctions, Abigail?”

  MOG was the last person—er, being—I wanted to offend. “I’m a fast healer anyway,” I said. Most Angels were. “Those demons must’ve got in some good shots, that’s all.”

  She blinked, undeterred. “No need to be scared. I promise I won’t harm you. Besides, prayer is nice but this—” She shook the bottle half full of some sort of thick tawny liquid. “This is the miracle we’re looking for.”

  She sat back down before I could blink. She had a lot of energy and enthusiasm for a woman who sat alone in beanbag chairs viewing visions all day long. I wondered if it was lonely watching other people live the lives she could only observe.

  I stiffened and cringed as she spread the liquid on my cheek but realized quickly it didn’t hurt. Actually, it was cool and soothing. Not bad.

  “Now lift up your shirt so I can get your side.”

  I did as she said. No one else would have known my side had been bruised hidden underneath my T-shirt. No one who hadn’t seen it happen, that was.

  “You must have heard their threat then?” I asked.

  “Yes, I did.” She dabbed my side one last time.

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  She waved the question away. “There’s nothing to do. We aren’t going to worry about some silly demons and their idle threats. I assure you we’re in no danger.”

  “Really? Can you see the future too?”

  A smile brightened her wholesome face. “No, dear. Of course not. In fact, most visions are delayed, backed up one after the other. I hadn’t viewed your attack until you were in the office. The system is somewhat fl
awed, I’m afraid. And it’s quite a disappointment I can’t pinpoint exactly where your attackers are located. Well, not unless they do something awful again. But it’s neither here nor there.”

  I was surprised at her nonchalance. Maybe she didn’t hear the threat as well as she thought...since the system was flawed and all.

  “The blond one, the leader, said that Angels will be punished if we continue to police them.” I tried to mimic the demon’s deep voice to jog her memory, but it came out all wrong.

  She laughed at my sad attempt and tried her own, finishing what the demon had said to me. “And the blood will be on your hands.”

  My mouth dropped open. Maybe she’d smoked one too many doobies? “I don’t think it’s a funny situation, MOG.”

  “Oh, Abigail.” She straightened her face and looked disappointed I hadn’t laughed along with her. “You’ll see that there’s nothing to worry about. Really. We’ve been through this many times before, and nothing ever comes of it.”

  “Before?” I had no idea Angels had been in jeopardy before tonight.

  “Several times in the past and the threats were never played out. Demons are funny that way. They get bored and like to amuse themselves by toying with an Angel occasionally. But they know better not to go further than that. They know Angels, by the hand of God, control this earth.”

  “But—”

  “Abigail, do you know what happens to a demon if he takes an Angel’s life?”

  “He goes to Hell for eternity?”

  “Yes, and do you have any idea what Hell is like for them?”

  I shook my head. I’d always wondered, though, what happened after the third strike, after the Hell Spirits rose from the ground and lugged the demon, kicking and screaming, back to the underworld.